Dipnet 2008 - Part Two

My last post started my annual adventure of Kenai Dipnetting where is found every July on the shores of Cook Inlet a throwback to the 70’s beach party. There are the ‘famous’ and almost famous Alaskans sharing the beach and enjoying a long standing tradition of sand, seagulls, and wind while spending time at the beach. If the fish are in there may be some filling of great big freezers with that fresh catch of the day.

A while back as the snow was starting to melt you could feel that things were changing as the stores started selling huge fishing nets on very long poles. They were being sold in any and every kind of store, just as is any fishing paraphernalia in this part of Alaska. When Costco moved their nets from the back of the store to the front entrance row by the liquor cage it must be time to prepare for that mad rush to the river. I started hearing from other friends that they planned to make the trek this year and how the numbers of fishermen would swell beyond imagination once the season opened and the fish were in.

I will attempt to give Outsiders (a person who lives Outside (outside spelled with a capital "O" refers to any place not in Alaska)) a sense of what it's like to dipnet, otherwise known as subsistence fishing. Let me premise this by saying that only Alaskan residents (someone who has lived here at least 12 months) are allowed to subsistence fish. Even visiting relatives or as in our family with Charlie still in his waiting period since relocating here about 8 months ago are not allowed to handle the gear or the fish. However, we are allowed to give fish to our immediate family.

The fishing season begins with the first run of red salmon followed by a run of king salmon. These you would normally use a rod and reel to land these fish but once the dip netting season begins, many will hang up their poles and head out to the rivers with their dip nets, which are exactly what their name implies . . . a large net used for catching fish . . . without the assistance of a pole, by dipping the large net into the water until a fish happens to swim into it.

In a somewhat funny way it's been said that when you're out dipnetting it's the one place you know you're fishing with Alaskans and not tourist. (By the way, this is information for dipnetting on the beach. You can also do it by boat but that is a whole other story. That is also fun.) You make your way about a mile down the beach from Cannery Row hoping not to get stuck in the soft sand. There are two sides of the river to fish from but the ‘bigger’ beach party always seems to be on the west side of the river’s mouth. We drag our Argo up to where we will make camp and offload the trailer as we set up camp.

Camp

The tent is erected and now that there is no driving in the near future a cold beer is drank as a way to salute the fish gods or at least mellow you out in case a stray seagull happens to drop his poop on you as a target.

Relaxing

Our camp is a combination of roughin’ it with some conveniences. We take the Argo, a six wheel all terrain vehicle that can float like a boat to cross rivers, ponds, or just to zip up the beach. There is the small (quiet) generator so that our coffee maker and microwave will give us that little edge on our ability to cook and enjoy those things that make your day . . . and coffee is one of those things I really like . . . all day long.

Roughin’ it

It’s time now to head out with net in hand and cooler in tow to the water’s edge. The water temperature is 48 degrees so I’ll say a little about what you are doing and what to expect.

First, the equipment. Most people wear chest waders (rubber or neoprene overalls with boots attached) and rain slickers. I usually wear fleece pants underneath to keep my legs warm while standing in the cold water for hours at a time. A good set of wool socks is also a must to keep your feet and especially your toes warm since there is not a lot of movement unless everyone decides to do the “Kenai shuffle”.

There were all kinds of fashion statements on the beach yesterday. One lady was wearing a rain poncho like the kind they wore in Vietnam while riding their scooters. Another lady was wearing a giant garbage bag with holes cut out for her head and arms, and a string around her waist to keep it snug. One girl was out in the water up to her neck wearing nothing but shorts and a tank top. I guess some people are missing cold receptors in their genetic make-up as others will surf out just a bit farther than everyone in full wet suits or dry suits to float with the current until they net their fish.

Water’s Edge

You need a very large net attached to a very loooong pole, 12 to 20 feet long with an always humungous varyingly shaped net at its end. Every couple of feet on the pole is handles to help the fishermen have control of the pole. The very device in which, if you’re lucky, a bounty of salmon will enter and never escape. Some people attach an empty milk jug or bottle of detergent to part of their net to keep it in an upright position to help it stay just off the mucky bottom.

Here’s how it goes down and what some call the ‘thrill of dip netting’:

You wade out into the 48 degree water as far as you feel comfortable, usually chest deep . . . being careful not to fill up your waders with water if there are any swells rolling by. You hold the end of the pole and slide the net straight out in front of you . . . with the net standing vertical in the water, not lying horizontal-into the current.

Now you wait . . . And wait . . .

High Tide

And wait . . . Some smoke, some chat, some listen to I-pods. If you’re like me, you close your eyes, hoping to feel the warmth of the sun, letting the soft waves rock you if it’s not real windy and become one with the water . . . mind extending beyond its physical limits and boundaries . . . reaching out to the distant horizon. After a while you start to softly whisper to the fish gods to PROVIDE! ! ! !

If your whisper is not heard . . . you continue to wait. Until your back aches, until your arms fatigue and are probably wet now from holding out the pole. You wait . . . until you’re shivering with cold and then head out of the water for a bit giving someone else a turn.

The flip side is really cool as there won’t be a wait! It’s almost like someone turns on a switch and you start seeing those down the line start having the fish hit their nets and start the sometimes long walk back to shore. They are coming towards you and more and more people are backing up trying to drag the fish to a manageable place to secure their catch. Those fish just keep coming . . . And suddenly they’re here and you feel the tell tale tug in your net . . . twist it down with the current to entrap the fish and start hauling back to the shore.

Low Tide

Some people will put their fish on a stringer and catch several fish before making the walk back to shore. To do this takes some finesse to keep your balance, handle the flopping fish in the net, and getting it on the stringer. If you are an intense animal activist, skip the next part and just scroll down to the next paragraph as you may not really understand or like this natural part in the circle of life in the story of subsistence salmon.

There's the fish whacker. You need something to knock the fish unconscious so they don't flop around on the beach and wiggle back to the water. Out in the water waist deep this is no easy task so most people have a professional fish bonker that looks like a miniature wooden baseball bat.

Bucket of fish

Note: Red Fish Wacker

There are many ways and items used for fish bonking. If you don't own a mini baseball bat, you can use a piece of 2” x 2” wood, the bottom leg off an old pair of crutches (I wonder if the rubber tip makes it hurt less for the fish?), or even the broad side on an ax. Several natives were using this and it made sense because you can cut the head off with the other side. It works on shore but not very practical chest deep in the water. An old Asian guy with an ax never did, he used a fillet knife. I won’t go into detail of bleeding out the fish to ‘remove’ the fishy taste or the gutting . . . and the processing right now as it’s too exhausting. Use your imagination blogger friends; these are just a few of the things I saw on the beach.

Everyone needs coolers to put our fish in while some people use garbage bags or even a child's plastic sled brought down to the beach so they can drag their cooler back up to their rig because the coolers become very heavy once filled with fish. My favorite inventive use of a household object was an ironing board one lady was using to fillet her fish right there on the beach. It was very ergonomically correct and a much better use of an ironing board than sledding down a hill in the winter or God forbid . . . using it for some mundane task like ironing!

Clip the tips of the fin and into the cooler it goes! Time to get back in the water to catch fish after fish and later you are breathless with exhaustion. The dipnetting itself was laborious, too. Imagine stirring a large vat of molasses with a broom handle. That is what it feels like sweeping a dipnet through a strong river current. I came home exhausted, dirty, and sore.

But there is something about catching a fish that makes it all worthwhile.

Sometimes you may catch your limit in one day but often times its several trips to catch your limit. One rockin year we caught most of our limit in one day, one after the other. No sooner did you put your net back in the water and there was another one in there . . . sometimes two! That’s the kind of fishin’ I like!

Finally . . . the people . . . always the most interesting part of any adventure. There were the typical Alaskan Rednecks (in Alaska, Redneck is not an insult, it's an ethnic group). They actually have it on many of our forms . . . you can check the box for Native Alaskan . . . Asian . . . African-American . . . Hispanic . . . or Redneck. I’m just kidding of course. There were petite Native Alaskan and giant Samoans. We have a large Samoan population in Anchorage and many Asians but even fewer African-Americans, who are unfortunately, the least populous in Alaska. I can't figure out why all these Asians would move to such a cold climate, but I digress . . .

Beach Party

My favorite dip netter this trip was an older Native woman who was out there braving the waves with the best of them. She had a perfectly round, very brown face and the whitest teeth I have ever seen except for my wife who’s always on everyone to have proper dental habits. The reason I know that is because she was smiling the entire time she was in the water close to me. It was such a beautiful sight to see. I wanted to bottle her joy and market it as the next best antidepressant. You could tell she was happy to be there in the water preparing her family’s food cache for the winter.

And to complete the scene in your mind, you have to add seagulls. Thousands and thousands of seagulls . . . like Hitchcock numbers. I wondered why the term "Hitchcockian" never caught on like "Freudian". The sound of the gulls is deafening . . . ever constant whether they are swarming all around you or a half mile away following a fishing boat as it heads in or out of the river. It stays in your ears as you are trying to lay there and get a little sleep. I fought the sound of the gulls all night as well as the couple of rocks that were under the tent beneath me. I could not get comfortable any night so it was easier to just get up and sit outside than to toss and turn all night in my sleeping bag.

Anyway, the gulls are there to eat what’s leftover after the cleaning process is done. There are hundreds of fish heads and carcasses all over the beach, most of them with their eyes gone. The gulls also eat the guts and the carcasses but their favorite part is the roe. They swarm all around you to get what is thrown out.

The fish turned on Saturday night for a few hours so everyone was catching fish. It was on the ebb tide so it was a long walk back to the cooler sitting on the beach. With the almost 30 foot difference in tide change low tide brings you about a quarter mile from the high tide point so it can be a chore to get your fish back to camp. By the time the river closed for the night at 11 pm Mike and I stayed at the water’s edge cleaning fish until 12:30 am.

When we returned to camp and a warm fire Charlie had made our dinner . . . fresh salmon, hot coffee and a tired but relaxing camp as the sun slowly went below the horizon and semi-darkness enveloped us. Shortly a full moon rose across the campfire we were sitting around and climbed its way up into the layer of clouds about four inches above the horizon. Many campfires were lit and people were talking in the low light as to the east the ever increasing light was coming our way.

Suddenly a barrage of fireworks leapt into the sky a few campsites away. One after another sailed up and exploded into a variety of colors and sounds. The ever constant low chatter of the seagulls were suddenly brought to full volume again as they lifted into the night sky flying all over the place once again. The fireworks were going off constantly for about five minutes when during one of the brief pauses to reload another campsite in back of us started launching theirs into the sky. More color . . . more explosions of various sizes and patterns. It had turned into a ‘Deliverance’ version of dueling fireworks between camps. Everyone cheered after each successive round and after about twenty five minutes it was over and the quiet slowly came over the beach.

Time now for sleep before the next mornings round in the river but the morning turned cold and windy with only a few people in the water. The hardcore were out not sleeping in as everything that was not tied down was being blown away. We stayed until about noon but broke camp and headed back to Anchorage so we could take care of all the equipment and wash the salt water from all our gear. More fish cleaning and preparations for the next fishing outing but our 2008 dipnet adventure was another fun time.

Until next year for another run of reds . . . next up the silver salmon are in so it is off to Jim Creek and another adventure.

Ice